


1-800-are-you-slappin

by Deerman3



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: AU, Action, Alcohol, Dialogue, Dinner Party, Disguise, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deerman3/pseuds/Deerman3
Summary: Ham eats Noir's goober so they have to go undercover to break in and get it back. It's time for some snazzy suits and a multi-course meal.





	1. Help Me

**Author's Note:**

> im a casual so I made up my own villians.

“Peter. Peter peter peter peter peter.”

Peter opened the door. “Oh. Hey Spider Ham. I was exp—you called Peter last night.”

“Names aren't important! Ugh!”

“No.” Noir said. “Is it me that you want? Or do you want Noir?”

“Shut—I have to be Spider Ham—Stop, stop. I'm the only one who needs to be Spider Ham.”

“Aw, okay.” Noir put his goggles back and motioned for Spider Ham to come in. “That's good, I don't think I could wwmw.” Peter said, but interrupted himself with a rumbley laugh.

“Do this? No I don't think so.” Spider Ham said, holding a big old hammer suddenly.

“No, I was going to say I wouldn't fit into the costume, but that too.”

“Oh real funny, pick on the short guy. At least I'm not wearing 50 layers.” Spider Ham followed him in.

“Anything to drink.” Noir offered.

“I don't know, whatever, I guess. It's not like you've got anything good.”

“Yeah, I only have one vice. Well. I got a lot of vices, but, you left some PBR 64 last time.”

“Oh, oops. Well, don't worry, I'll drink all of them for you.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“&#@% yeah! I mean thanks.” Spider Ham said, taking up the whole couch.

Noir came back and passed the can to the ham, and cracked open his own Minute Maid, sitting next to him.

“Well how's Pink.” Spider Ham said.

“Still getting in trouble. I swear he knows who I am.”

“He's always doing that. I'm kind of sad he moved, almost, almost, do not quote me on that. I don't miss him like that. It was just nice to have somebody to be mad at all the time, you know?”

Noir was aware of how Ham felt. It didn't change his reactions. “Sure. It's probably, I mean, it's probably easier when he doesn't know me as well.” He said. “People are still moving, regardless.” He couldn't keep the pride out of his voice, even though it made him paranoid.

“It's a scary world, no matter what. People wouldn't just abandon you like that.”

Noir hummed a modest laugh. “Thanks.”

“They would me, though.”

“Oh come on. Some people just like, you know.” Noir moved his hands around.

“Everybody likes that.”

“No.” Noir did it with more herky-jerky motions.

“Oh!” Spider Ham said, and laughed. “Yeah. Give me a break, who are you, that detective guy? _Everybody is exactly like me, mmmmmm, Rubik's Cube._ ”

Noir laughed at him. “So?” He prompted. “Are you not exactly like me?”

“Oh, well, you know, you know, uhhh, you know how it is, you fight this guy, some dumb junk happens, you don't know what to do now, you go for a walk, you just do something stupid anyways, it's not important, nevermind, nevermind.”

“Ah.” Peter said. “Nevermind it is then. Unless you're willing to give me more information.”

“I was thinking of just blaming Peter.”

“Yeah Peter sucks. It's like, keep the mask on, have a beard, or shave.”

“No—whahahahawhat—I mean Peter Porker.”

“Oh. Yeah, that guy also sucks. He's probably stupidly trying to blame someone else when his reputation depends on being trustworthy, doing the right thing.”

“Shut up, you don't even KNOW! You know who else sucks!”

“I'm right here. That's _so_ rude.”

“I was gonna say Noir, but he's actually pretty cool. I do like the wind thing.”

“Ah yes. I get that a lot.”

“You do not.” Spider Ham said.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I can't it's really dumb.”

“There's no point in being so hard on yourself. Do you want another one?”

“Fine.”

“Here.” Noir wanted the empty can from his guest.

“I could throw it away.” 

“Fine. Do you know where it is.”

“I don't know, how often have I been here?” Spider Ham laughed.

“Go.” Peter said, and went to the garage.


	2. In Case You Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half comic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondering why the title isn't something related to the fic? Hmmmmm? its from tumblr heeheeheheehee  
> EDIT : reformatted pic  
> EDIT : messed up pic

**noir with a desk lamp : are you slapping you legally have to tell me (shining a light at a seal)**

ham eating a cupcake : otherwise its enslapment

seal : degg leg mmpbth

noir : ham i told you no jokes we’ll never get him to crack


	3. Lightening Stikes Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ham comes out with it and gets yelled at.

“You know,” Spider Ham said, “Thanks—you know people say Peter B would dumpster dive. That's awfully rude. Just because he made a 12 year old pay for his lunch doesn't mean he's good at dumpster diving.”

“Uhhm...??” 

“That's not a dumpster, Peter, that's just a can. I have some dignity, but I'm just saying, if you ever need a truffle, I know a guy: Peter.” He said, puffing his chest out.

“...B Parker famous dumpster diving hobo, I know.” Noir said, and Spider Ham laughed.

“Yeah.” He said. 

Noir took a drag of his cigarette patiently, but the air was silent. “Hungry?” He said, pressing him to ask for help and leave. Or at least ask for help and then act normal. Oh buddy.

“You. I uh. Well. So I was, I myself just happened to be in town. Didn't happen to see that detective guy anywhere, but I did see, uhh, goober. And it's. Gone now."

“Don't really use goobers. Why are goobers so tiny, again?”

“Would you rather have to steal 12 floppy disks from a bad guy? If they were smart, it would take you days, like a fetch quest.”

“Floppy disks.” Noir said, amused by the image of a flippy floppy piece of technology, when the tech he'd seen was so breakable and sharp-edged... “Oh. Oh. F***'s sake Ham. Tell me it wasn't the cypher code for Mind-Control.biz.”

“It said eat this note! So I ate it! 5786 something something 3.”

“Ham!! Ya couldn't have ruined your own week? That doesn't even make sense.”

“I did! I got stuff to do in my city too! I said I want to blame Peter, so be mad at me later!”

He was like, fine, and took a drag and calmed down. “Thanks for at least warning me.”

“I can... I w... I want to help.”

Noir sighed. “Fine. Thank-you.”

“So, we just break into the bad guys lair.”

“Yes, it's underneath the basement.” Noir said an address that was like super far and unreasonable for an evil lair to be.

“That's a pretty smart place to put a lair.”

“Yeah.” Noir sighed.

“I think we'll have to go undercover as tourists.” Spider Ham said. “Stumble in.”

“Hmm. Oh, oh, actually, they're doing a party to celebrate winning on Friday. Could probably slip in as employees and get up there. To the cipher.”

“What? Winning?”

“Yeah. I mean, they THINK they're going to win. I was gonna get it done tomorrow, before they could do anything. Now I guess I'll just have to brute force it. At least to stall them.” Noir said. Spider Ham looked away. “We'll just do it all in one night. Friday.”

“Friday.” Spider Ham agreed. Folks, it's a date.

“It'll work out. I've been... I mean to be honest—I mean we can do it. I'd been hoping, lately, that brute force was a forgotten art form. What with everything being so fragile.”

“I'll be honest, at first I thought you were talking about just trying every single number systematically.”

“What the fuck.”

“That's what brute force means sometimes.” Spider Ham said, glancing at him. “We should trade off sometimes. You know?”

“It's ridiculous. That. That's. You.”

“We're the same. Not even joking this time.”

“Hmph.” Noir said, like he wasn't about to call Ham a crazy lil' cartoon. “I don't know about any of this, Ham.”

“Don't say that.” Spider Ham leaned on him. “Plus, what are we supposed to do.”

“I don't know.” Noir said, immovable, putting a hand on Ham's shoulder. “Are you... seriously do you want me to make lunch?”

Spider Ham clicked his tongue, letting Noir just be dumb and sad I guess. “Oh sure, why not, or I could buy.” He jumped up, heading to the bedroom. “Remind me who knocked on the door though.”

“Oh yeah, I'm allowed to be mad at you now, I guess.” Peter mused. 

“**** off.” Peter Porker called back, digging in the armoire for a comfortable little shirt.


	4. Interdimensional Scarycore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday evening, they don their disguises, with their spider suits on under neath of course. Gwen cameo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I thought this was fool proof but im starting to think it is gibberish.  
> EDIT -- i think this chapter was pretty legible but now it really is fool proof

“Over here. I would like to thank you again for offering to help me with Mind-Control.biz.” Peter said, opening the door and letting Peter into his black and white apartment.

“No problem. So, let's have a quick one and go.”

“What? Fine.” Noir went to grab him a beer.

“Whoof, parties.” He said, going to sit on the couch while Noir paced around by the window, playing with a dining room chair.

“No, here, come back here,” Noir offered, turning on the lamp.

“What, are you gonna interrogate me? You freak?” He jumped off the couch, came over, and zipped up the chair. “You gonna web me up and use me to barricade some door?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Noir said. “I was thinking about your hair.”

“It's coming back in style. It came back. It was a hit a few years ago. I'm a pioneer again, 2025, here I come.” He said. “What are you thinking, I'm willing to try the old Jude Claw. I mean the old Lionardo DiCaprio.” Peter said. “Wait. Who was your guy? The old Robeart Redford.”

“Yeah. Cary Elephant. I don't know, Just maybe comb it out and make it sort of.” Noir pushed is bangs back, which is, yeah, yep, that's how Ham's is, except no fingers in his. “I mean, now, your hair does look great. It always does.”

“Thanks. I mean, go hog wild if you want, you're the one who asked. Just don't ask me to wear a funny little hat.”

“Oh.” He said, he had been thinking of offering him a little (and therefore very funny) hat. “I mean, sure. Give me a moment.” He came back with some books, a comb, and grease or whatever. He propped Ham's chair up higher, with the books.

“Hiya.” Ham said, looking him in the face.

“Hiya.” Noir said blandly, spinning the comb in his hand like a barbershop gunslinger. 

“You ever think how it's weird that I'm pink?”

“You know, on film, and in reality, this reality, red is black.”

“Are you saying your get up is red like normal??”

“Nope, I'm saying, maybe you're secretly magenta.”

“Magenta? What kind of pig is magenta?”

“One that got colorized in a hurry.”

“Okay, well, no. You can do my hair like an under-spoken heart-throb any time (if you're any good at it), but you're not getting any neon make-up on this face. Just pretend I'm the softest loveliest pink.”

“Roger.”

“I bet all your make-up is just lead, anyways.”

“Why is every metal so scary to you? Metal is natural, comes from the earth. Lead is very versatile.”

“I dunno, Noir. Maybe because I deal in heavy metals and anvils? Maybe because I have at least half a mind?”

“Tell me that the next time your stomach gets upset.”

“No, I'd eat rocks. I eat rocks all the time.” He said defensively. “Pepto Bismol is just rocks.”

Noir finished his hair. “Fine.”

“Finer than frogs hair, wouldja say?”

“I did my best. Here we go.” Noir said, tilting the chair onto one leg and spinning him around.

He saw the window, with light of the room reflecting him onto the dark night sky. “Oh, hey! Slick! Thanks.” He turned his head around, not breaking eye contact with the window. “Oh no, act natural.” He jumped off the chair, drank half his beer, and jumped onto Noir's head.

Noir squinted. “Is that... Hi! No, it's undone, here.” He went to the window, and Ham scurried down his other arm and stood on the ground.

“Hey.” Gwen said, sticking her head through. “What's up? You two.”

“We're saving the world, chick!”

“You look cool.” Gwen said.

“Thanks.” Ham walked up the wall and stood on the window sill. “He did it all dreamboat steam boat-y.”

“Looks good.” Gwen said. “I gotta go.”

“Be safe!” They told her. “Wait,” Peter said, sticking his head out the window. Peter jumped to his shoulder.

Gwen swung back and crouched on the side of his building. “What's wrong?”

“Please, if you find a lead here for the next big bad guy, at least TELL me about it.” Noir said.

“Hey, come on, she's doing fine! We all make mistakes.” Ham said, waving his arm around. “Don't get mad at HER for it.”

“This happens to us literally every week. Remember when Norm was in every city except Miles's and he didn't know?”

“Well I could have gotten him if I had known which Norm it was.” Gwen said.

“That's what I am saying.”

“Okay, so, don't yell.” Ham said. “Go on, get outta here, kid, be safe, we believe in you.”

“Sorry, hon. We do.”

“Hey, and, at least we talk about the important stuff. Don't forget to sleep and make your brain good for al—al—al, math.” Ham stuttered.

“Algebra.” Gwen said.

“See, I don't even know what that is. That means you're on the right track!” Ham stood up, one foot on the back of Noir's head and one on his shoulder, gesturing big.

Gwen laughed. “Thanks. Bye guys, I'm gonna lose him!”

“Bye!” Ham said.

“Get that sucker!” Noir said, pushing Ham backwards he could look at Gwen. “Whose is it?”

“Don't worry about it!” Gwen called out.

One of Peter's neighbors hooted. “Say, that's Spider-Gwen, yee-hoo!”

Noir shut his window, and tried to give Ham a dirty look, but he wasn't on either of his shoulders. “Get off me. Who was she chasing, if it's not mine, and she won't say.”

“It could have been yours,” Ham popped up from the center of his back, resting an elbow on his shoulder. “She literally just didn't say.”

“Peter, I swear.” Noir groaned, slipping his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes, resting like that for a moment.

Ham jumped back to the ground. “I'm sure we'll figure it all out soon. Maybe tomorrow! Uno night again. I'll help you out if you want to make a big stink about multi-city patrolling. I have a whoopee cushion, they'll never know it was us.”

Noir let his glasses hit his nose and grabbed a cigarette.

“Ah, come on Peter. This was just supposed to be an excuse for us to go out on a fancy date night with really high stakes.”

“I'll take you for high steaks!” Smoke formed Noir's wobbly speech bubble. “I'll go places with you. Just...”

“Stakes like tension.” Ham led him back to the living room, sat with him.

“I don't need any stakes.”

“You're the one who invited me to this! They made a, they made a car commercial about you, you know. Enjoy, but don't touch. Touch but don't hold it. Look, but don't touch. I think it's for Sonic. Just eat a hot dog in your car, babe. You know?”

“What are you talking about.” He grumbled.

“You just got to cheer up, you.”

Noir's expression changed. “You ever been to a corporate dinner, Mr. Picnic Basket?”

“I've been to a food fight. Monkey see, monkey do.”

“Oh golly.” Noir said. “Seriously, don't touch, don't hold, don't enjoy. Let's get ready.”

They went to the bedroom and Ham pulled his suit out of his pocket, kneaded baby powder into it, and tossed it in the air.

“Here.” He stood on the bed and tied Noir's tie for him. He pulled on his little suit jacket, and jumped towards Noir's chest.

“Wait.” Noir caught him head first and put him back on the bed. “How do I look.”

“You look great.”

“Are you sure? I'm going to have to fight in this.”

“It might get bunched up in the back.” Noir said, to placate him. “Just don't take the trench off until you sat down. Noir always fights in that, anyways.”

“It's not too tight.” He asked.

“No it's good. You're the one who picked out these suits.”

“How is it not too tight but gets bunched in the back?” Noir wriggled his shoulders.

“You don't even care about this, you know you look fine. Listen, I said it MIGHT, usually, you know, guys who wear suits aren't doing that much running and punching and swinging. Well, maybe running if they have a big enough stage, but, I mean, we're, we, if you're too dressed up to throw a handful of mashed potatoes at someone, then I will do it for you.”

“Okay, Ham.” He said, mostly just ignoring him.

Ham burrowed into Noir's jacket. They went to get Noir's hat and goggles, he masked up, and jumped out the window, trench whipping around like a cape. His jacket rustled around for a moment, and Spider Ham stuck his masked head out, hooting, as Spider Noir swung around the corner of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch you on Sunday!!!! yeah!


	5. James Cameron From Terminator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys conspicuously eat dinner and then they get chased around.

“Oh wait, I'm not really disguised.” Noir said.  


“Here.” Ham pushed Noir's mask up to his nose and used a chisel point marker to draw a goatee on him. “Should we have alter ego names?”  


“Hmm, I guess so.”  


“Jimmy Scrambles. That's yours.”  


“Uh, is that a joke, or something? Umm, James Hambles.”  


“Perfect!”  


“So, we're going to eat dinner, slip on out during the dancing, and then, I don't know, see if the elevator operator likes us.”  


“Dancing?”  


“Yeah.”  


“Hmm.” Ham said. “Woah, look at that. That's one wild... That must be it, huh.” Ham said. Noir clicked his tongue.  


The building looked like it was glitching out, half was black and white, and half was bright red brick with yellow trim.  


"Looks like the top got blown off." He said.  


"I'm getting old." Noir said. "It almost looks cute." He said.  


"Oh sure, I'm positive it's got some cute aspects to it."  


"Yeah, hey, did you get any info besides the secret code?"  


"Um, the leader is this uh crazy mammal guy, maybe a wolverine? Is that too on the nose? Guards are humans, though, so that's fun. Um, there's a big thing on top. Oh, that would explain the paint job, huh?"  


Noir hung a left and they ducked into a shadow to unmask. They then sauntered into the building, said hello to the receptionist.  


“Hi! Oh, are you okay, sweetie? Here, I have a first aide kit.” She ducked and dug in a drawer.  


Ham and Noir exchanged a glance and hurried down the hall, which was ridiculous and rude, and led them into a labyrinth of conference rooms. They snuck back, Noir ducking so the receptionist couldn't see him from her desk. Ham was on his head, and accidentally made eye-contact with her. “I got taller. What.” And they went the other way.  


The hall was decorated plain but very beautifully, and it had a single very long table, with plenty of people there. A waiter came by and gave them each a champagne flute. “Ooh.” Ham said.  


The next thing were water glasses, and then water. Noir got a separate cup of ice for some reason, and he watched the waiters carefully, or boredly, while Ham played with his silverware. “What's the second fork for?”  


Noir sighed exaggeratedly at him. “It's obviously for when they give you two baked potatoes and you need to make them dance. What kind of cartoon character are you, if you don't know the classics.”  


“Oh yes of course.” Ham said serenely.  


“That one is your salad fork.”  


“Okay.” Ham drew an S on it, and the marker squeaked along the curves.  


“Please don't make a scene.”  


Ham looked across the table at an alligator sitting with a bull. He clattered his silverware, then held up his fork with a wink when the alligator looked up. She held up her fork also, it had an S too, and she blushed.  


“You gotta face the music,” Ham said, leaning back. It was crazy though.  


“You first, but okay.” Noir said. Ham clicked his tongue.  


Salad was served, and for a second, Ham felt kind of funny about eating at this fancy venue in a fancy suit, eating the food of Noir's impoverished city, but then he had a bite of salad. “Pbtbtbt. This tastes like bread???”  


Noir covered his face. “Don't... Okay.”  


Ham tried another bite. “Oh this is good actually, if you know what you're in for.”  


Next up came long, sexy, French plates with some olives, and some almonds. Ham did feel bad about these, but more in the crass pity way than the active guilt way.  
“Uh, almonds are poisonous.” Ham laughed. “You guys are crazy, can you regulate your stuff for like a second? Almonds. That's nuts. Pete you are so backwards. Next you'll be telling me, telling me um, that you had cars with windshields for the driver but the passenger just got to eat bugs.”  


Noir rolled his eyes and also an almond onto his fork. “I mean, almonds aren't good, so.”  


“Hey, I'm not gonna come to Olive Garden and fill up on bread salad, or anything, but I think we're on the same page.” Ham said and ate the rest of Noir's finger-food for him.  


“What,” Said the chef at the end of the table. “Do you guys want for the main course?”  


“Hot dog.” Ham was thinking.  


“Ruh-roh.” Noir was thinking.  


“Chili!” Everybody said all together in a haunting chorus, and they pounded the table once.  


“Chili...” The boys said, trying their best. Bop. Ham hit the table too late.  


“We're new.” Ham said to the bull across the table, who was looking at him. “I've got a-rythmia. No rhythm.” He tapped the table again. “I've got A... Any Ross and Carrie fans out there?”  


“No.” Noir heckled.  


“Well there's only one other way 'a-rythmia' can go, see you guys on the other side.” Ham pulled out a pair of defibrillators.  


“Hey, 'scuse me.” One of the waiters tapped Noir's shoulder. “Um, are you two supposed to be here? I mean, didn't you get the thingie? My boss is, like, mad at me right now. Oh, um. I'm s...”  


“Your boss's stupid idiot clown boss,” Ham made big confusing gestures as he ranted. “Is gonna be mad at YOU once I get through with him. You all think this is funny, huh. Almonds and olives are a crazy nonsense combo, but kind of sounds fun to say, right? So, I'm thinking, what's with salad and chili? Why on earth... What did, what did you do to the salad. Why does it taste like toast? Can anyone tell me that? Can I get a little help deciphering this? You know?” He stood on the table, marching around, tipped over a champagne flute and caught the bottom with his foot like it was a mic stand. “You know.”  


“No.” The bull across the table said. “What are you... WHAT are you doing?”  


Noir, pulling on his mask, had just rounded the doorway—which would have been a stupid plan if Ham wasn't so good at chewing scenery—when he ran into some broad, and they both yelped.  


“Sorry, doll, almost swept you right off your feet.” Noir said, leaning back on the doorway, fixing his goggles, he moved his hand further back and shot a web at Ham from behind his head. He continued running down the hall the other way, winding the web back up like a rodeo clown.  


“Hey, hiya miss.” Ham said when he passed her, yo-yoing himself and flying along behind Noir. “Hey, where ya going?”  


Noir just growled at him.  


“Uh-oh, on our six. And by our, I mean your, because I'm lookin' right at them.” Ham said, getting to Noir and standing on his shoulder to taunt them. Noir grabbed him, turned him around, and then volleyball-served him at the folks running at them from the other direction.  


Oh to be launch-padded off a pair of arms into the faces of two goons, oh the funny gong sound of a hoof to the teeth. Ham webbed up two guys, and cowbell-ed the last one's nose. “Again I ask, where are we going?” Ham skittered forward and up the wall.  


“Elevator.” Noir said. “I don't know.”  


“Keep going, I got a circular vibe when we ran away from the receptionist, so we can't lose!”  


“Hope so!”  


“Come on you guys, hurry up, you'll never catch us like that!” Ham howled down the hallway.  


The pair did somehow make it to the receptionist, who was on the phone and not very startled by them, possibly narrating them into the receiver as they ran past her.  
“Elevator, elevator!” Ham announced. “Up down up down?”  


“Down I think?” Noir said, catching up to Ham, and they both punched the button at the same time.  


“No, it's up, right??” Ham said.  


The doors did open, the boys did go in, and Noir did block the elevator operator, who did strike at them, and said to Ham, “Turn the thingie!” And started fighting with the operator.  


Ham was like, _hmmm, thingie,_ and grabbed one of the cranks, and the elevator car creaked, and he grabbed the other one and turned them at the same time, and the elevator started to lower as the doors were closing. The secutiry caught up to them, but were like, _we don't want to get cut in half,_ and so they backed off. “Wait, no, I'm going up.” Ham said, turning the other crank clockwise. “Are you gonna be an ass to me if we go up?”  


Noir grabbed his gun and asked the operator if they should go up or down.  


“Down.”  


Ham blew a raspberry at Noir and kept them going up. Noir webbed up the operator.  


Ham said, “You know, I was hoping the elevator operator would be, like, funnier.”  


“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't shoot me.”  


“Oh, sorry, did you want to fight him?” Noir said.  


“I wasn't lying, I'm sorry.”  


Ham said, “I don't know. I mean, dialogue is good too, sometimes. Did we have to fight him? You know?”  


“Please.”  


“Can you read the room?” Noir said to the babbling operator. “I'm obviously not going to shoot you, stop that. Look, I'm putting away okay. No gun. Not even lying for a good reason.” Noir webbed his mouth up.  


“Wow.” Ham said.   


“Stop that, you'll to make the damned thing drop.”  


“I'm trying my best.” Ham said. He was a little bit short to be cranking these cranks.  


“Here, let me.” Noir said, and Ham sat back with sunglasses and an empty coconut with a pink straw.  


“Wonder what these guys do. Chili.” Ham slapped his knee. “Like, they could have had us, uh, I don't know, throwing pies at each other while the big leader guy watched us underlings. You know? If I had mind control I was about to use on the whole world, I'd be messing with my employees. Chanting is dumb.”  


“Well.” Noir said.  


“I mean, you said tonight was the night, right? So, like, why save face with anything?” Ham said.  


“Don't say that. Words can have power. Chili.” He said, and patted Ham's head. “Oh my god.” His brow crinkled like a soda can, which made Ham laugh and laugh.  


“Noir, you ruined my someone-touches-my-face trap.”  


“What is this.” Noir looked at his glove.  


“It's jelly.”  


“Why are you always covered in something.”  


“Um, I'm a pig, duh.”  


Noir wiped his hand on his pants.  


There were goons waiting for them once they got to the top, and they had them right up against the elevator doors, so the two of them just walked around up to the ceiling of the elevator, and crawled out and along the wall, and sat there sniping webbing at the goons, mummying them up good. The spiders had better aim than the goons did.  


They were alone in a room full of groaning and struggling, and some big wiring super-computer-eque machine.  


“Hmmm.” Ham said. “I feel like this isn't it.”  


“I wouldn't know.” Noir said.  


“What.” Ham matched his tone.  


“You're the one who got the cipher.”  


“Oh, right. Well, that was on the roof, actually, so forget me I guess.”  


“What.” Noir accused.  


Halos of squiggly lines jumped to surround them, they stopped arguing, turning their heads to one end of the room. They were being watched.


	6. Bad Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to fight that bad guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (walks backwards) (falls into the punchbowl and there is no one there to console me)

“Sorry your dumb elevator technology doesn't lead to the roof access stairs.” Ham muttered.  


Noir rolled his eyes, huffing to let him know that he had just rolled his eyes, and pitter-pattered towards this stupid one-sided mirror they'd overlooked. It overlooked the whole room. The room overlooked nothing because it didn't have very many well placed windows.  


“Can you two speak up, I can't hear you.” Said a crazily cartoony voice.  


Ham followed Noir, gazing into the mirror and waving at himself, smiling at himself, blowing a kiss to himself.  


“Could you not harass people when I'm around, please.” Noir said.  


“That one didn't count it could just be a mirror. Besides, what do you care, they're villains, I can do, I can do whatever I want.”  


“I'm not having this argument with you.” Noir swung to the ceiling and then swung into the glass feet first. Now he was standing on the mirror, with a twinge in his ankle. Ham followed, hitting with a splat like he was sticky slime. Noir peeled him off and shook him out until he turned from a flat stanley back into a Spider-Ham. “You good.” Noir asked.  


“Thanks.”  


“This room is impenetrable.” The villain boasted.  


It did crack.  


“Ha!” Ham said, “Maybe you just don't have a thick enough skull.”  


“Woah, woah,” Noir said before Ham could slam his head into the web-like crack in the mirror.  


“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Ham grabbed his hammer and swung.  


“John Mindconmole.” Ham said, pointing at the mad scientist mole in the little room behind the mirror. “I should have known.”  


“It's me John Mindconmole!” Mindconmole said, “You got glass all over my face, thank-you.”  


“Why did you have a one-sided mirror if you're a mole, you can't see, right?” Noir said.  


“Oh, Spider-Man Noir, I was afraid you wouldn't be joining us for this one. You're so quiet and all. Quite the shut in.”  


“Yeah.” Noir said. “Wait, no, not really. Hey."  


“But, I suppose you couldn't help yourself, considering I have borrowed one of your buildings, as it were.”  


“And you're threatening my New York.” Noir lunged at him.  


“Trap-door!” He said, ducking and turning to his desk, “Oh dang it, is it the red one or the green one?” He had two big buttons, and a few small ones. “Got you, I was kidding, I know what colors are.” And the floor dropped out.  


“What's wrong with him.” Noir said, somersaulting to the wall when the floor dumped him, and standing up.  


“He likes hearing himself talk.” Ham said. “Red and green are pretty hard colors, after all.”  


“Shut up, Ham.”  


“Hey, you two, could you at least do me the humility of falling all the way to the floor?” Mindconmole looked at them through the trap door.  


“Fine, fine, sheesh, think of better traps for spiders why doncha.” Ham said, trudging down the wall toward the ground. “Come on, let's screw up the machine.”  


Mindconmole reached down and tried to swipe at Noir. Noir sighed and let him go, catching up to Ham, who was looking at the computer.  


“Mash-'em-smash-'em is the instinct I'm getting here.”  


“Yeah, fair enough.” Noir stood aside.  


Ham started beating on the thing, breaking a glass screen but unable to do much else against the dull colored towers. Just looking at the gross and boring computer was really truly starting to get to him in a psychological way. He dropped an anvil on it, and it just bounced. “Scratch that, I guess this thing won't mash or smash.”  


"You can try as hard as you'd like, Spiders, but these machines are impervious to hammers, and to anvils, and whatever else you've got up your sleeve. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist our pull, Spider-Ham."  


"What about, like, guns." Noir said. Ham stepped back to really admire the super mind controlling machine.  


"As for you, it's also immune to human things. Guns, like muscles? I don't...? No, these machines are a very study metal substance, you can't punch your way out of this."  


"What about a potato gun, that's gotta work." Ham went up and kicked it.  


"Not potatoes either, Spider-Ham."  


"Water gun." Noir said. "Rust it."  


"I do not believe this metal will be very friendly towards your chemical reactions." Mindconmole said, while Ham climbed around on the machine, smacking it occasionally.  


"What about, uhm, air soft gun." Noir said, watching him.  


"No, are air guns a thing? No, I highly doubt it would work. I don't know why you think I would even tell you if any of these 'gun' things you're so excited about would work on my marvelous machine. And don't say earth gun, because your associate has already said potato gun."  


"Elec... eh, Stun gun?"  


"Oh shoot, a stun gun might work, actually. If only you know the places in the machine that are vulnerable to being overloaded by electricity, but you don't, because I am a genius, and it has a very nice outer hull as you can see."  


Ham looked at Noir and shrugged, and Noir shrugged back, and Ham got to climbing back up the wall towards Mindconmole.  


"Don't think you can get off so easily and rush into the boss fight now, you little weird menace, because I'm very sorry to say that you both have drunken my Kool Ade as it were. Oohoohoohoo," Mindconmole turned back to his red and green buttons, and laughed for as long as it took Ham to climb up to the booth, to make it really dramatic when he mind controlled them just at the worst time.  


During that, Noir cocked his gun and started shooting the places on the machine that Ham had smacked.  


"Hey, hey, hey, what the @*#$, that's not fair, Spiders aren't allowed to have REAL GUNS." Mindconmole's funny voice let up a little. "Aaaaaaroo." He grumbled, jabbing the red button a bunch of times.  


Ham paused to stare anxiously at the machine. It farted a little sigh of smoke, and it fell apart like it was made of legos.  


“Oh darn it Spider-Ham, that's not fair and you know it. I could have changed everything.” Mindconmole said, as Ham reached the booth to web him up. “Dang it. Oh come on, I don't even get to make a dramatic exit?”  


“No??” Ham said, carrying him down. “What, were you gonna blow the dang thing up again so some other villain from some other New York could build another penthouse? I don't think so.”  


Ham glanced at the half open elevator. “You wanna take the stairs?”  


“Not really.” Noir said.  


So they went in, and Noir cranked them back down. “Oh hey Jerry.” Mindconmole said to the elevator operator.  


“Mmm, mmph.” Jerry said mildly.  


“You'll get him next time.” Ham told them.  


Noir either hissed or stiffled a laugh.  


The lobby already had cops in it. “Hey guys.” Ham said, marching up and presenting Mindconmole to them. “Oh wait, you're not my guys. Greetings officers.”


End file.
